darthwombat

"Theoretic Inciscion"

Fleeting hypocrisies undermine every morsel of my being,
While aptly mastered fallacies
Encompass my throne in absence.

Self-mutilated empty whispers lie dormant in a state of confused bliss,
As once paranoid delusions slice the mind
With the precision of a skilled surgeons scalpel.

Scarlet trickles from open wounds
Forming congealed puddles of enigmatic peril
On not so solid ground